


Ice Planet Hell

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Drama, M/M, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-07-14
Updated: 1999-07-14
Packaged: 2018-11-11 00:39:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11137803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Ray goes after a drug dealer on his own and gets in over his head





	Ice Planet Hell

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).
    
    
     Disclaimer: With the exception of the drug dealer, Alliance owns these
    guys, not me. They will be returned in fairly good condition.... with
    minimal injuries. The title is a song by Pyschotica, owned by American
    Recordings. 
    
    Drama, slash, drug use
      
    Since drugs(specifically heroin) play a part in this story I just want
    to make it clear that I have no medical background or training.  Anything
    described in here comes purely from some less than pleasant memories
    of high school. 
    
    Now, onto the standard warning:
    Rated R for M/M sexual situations, language, and drug use. I don't get
    too graphic, but if  you're underage or the idea of two men together
    offends  you, don't read any further. You will go blind. It happened
    to someone I know. Oh, you think I'm kidding.... 
    
    The capacity for passion is
    both cruel and divine.
    
                 -- George Sand
                 'Intimate Journal'
    
                                      Ice Planet Hell
                                            by
                                            Rae
    
    2:33 AM. Constable Benton Fraser lay awake, idly watching the lazy rotation
    of the ceiling fan above his head. A warm summer night breeze wafted
    through the open window, scenting the room with the sweet perfume of
    the season. Hot. It was unreasonably hot. The Chicago heat could compete
    with the fires of Hell. Fraser was naked, but nevertheless perspiring
    terribly. He couldn't get back to sleep and he was sure his incessant
    squirming would wake his peacefully slumbering lover. It was time to
    get up; he just couldn't lie still any longer. Fraser disentangled himself
    from his lover's arms and sat up, legs dangling over the side of the
    bed. This action was countered by a whiny moan of objection from the
    slender form beside him. Stanley Ray Kowalski rolled over, muttering
    incoherently. Gently laying a hand on the detective's chest, Fraser bent
    to kiss him lightly on the ear before getting up and slipping into a
    pair of boxer shorts. 
    
    
      The hardwood floor of Ray's apartment was warm beneath his feet. He
    wandered into the kitchen, in search of a cold drink to relieve his parched
    throat and body. From the look of Kowalski's fridge, he hadn't been grocery
    shopping in quite awhile. But then he hadn't been home much these past
    few weeks either.  These past few weeks, he'd practically been living
    at Fraser's, coming home only to retrieve clothes and a few odd-ball
    items he felt he just couldn't live without. All of which were now scattered
    around Ben's spartan domicile. This was the only thing about the detective
    that midly annoyed Fraser, his utter lack of organization and neatness.
    For instance, leaving his clothes in a rumpled pile on the floor, as
    was so often his tendency. Granted, there were many times when Benny
    was at fault for this. In heated throes of passion, he would strip Stanley
    naked with no throught as to where the clothes landed. But still, he
    was always sure to pick up afterward. On the other hand, if it were left
    to Ray the clothing would lie there until laundry day. Thinking on this,
    Ben had to laugh. Whenever he attempted to reprimand his lover for these
    habits, Ray would toss him such an injured expression, that he regretted
    his words at once. Whatever it was, Stanley knew his way around Benny's
    heart. 
    
      
    
        Smiling to himself, Fraser reached into the fridge and withdrew a
    half-empty container of orange juice. God only knew how old it was, but
    it felt good going down. He finished the remainder of the juicie and
    left the empty container by the door so he'd remember to take it down
    to the recycling bin on his way out.  
    
    
      He was leaning against the kitchen counter, half-heartedly searching
    for something in the way of a healthy midnight snack, when two arms wrapped
    themselves around his waist. Ray pressed against his back and lay his
    chin on the Mountie's broad shoulder. "Whatchya doing?", he asked. Ben
    smiled, placing one hand over Stanley's and stroking the long fingers.
    "Nothing, Ray. I apologize if I woke you. This heat is rather uncomfortable."
    Kowalski's head rose from his shoulder. "Mm-hmm. You're telling me."
    he said quietly, "I'm sweating like a pig." Ray rose to nip at his ear.
    "It makes me feel so dirty." Fraser sighed, dropping his head back against
    Stanley's. "Hmm," the detective mumbled, "you're sweating , too." A small
    shudder escaped the Mountie as he felt the hot silk of Kowalski's tongue
    clean the sweat from his shoulderblade in one wonderful stroke. Ray's
    hands moved down over his hips now, thin fingers working their way into
    the waistband of his boxer shorts. Benton shook his head, grinning. "Oh,
    Ray, you're insatiable." he teased, "Aren't you ever satisfied?" Ray
    pulled the pretty ear between his teeth again, traced the lobe with his
    tongue. "I'm never satisfied, Frase. You should know that by now." At
    this, Benny pulled the detective's arms up and held his wrists in a one-handed
    grasp. He spun, pushing Stanley up against the wall. Kowalski gasped,
    eyes glazed with desire. "I do know, Ray." the Mountie whispered, "I
    just have to be reminded sometimes." He kissed the detective and was
    received with desperate enthusiasm. Kowalski groaned, smiled as he nipped
    and sucked at Benny's tongue. He tasted so sweet. Fraser let go the other
    man's wrists and ran his hands over the smooth, hairless chest. With
    very little urging and still lip-locked, he moved Ray toward the bedroom.
    As he did he scraped his fingernails along his lover's hardened nipples.
    Relished the deep, gutteral moan this action inspired. His lover was
    beautiful. Wild, sensual and absolutely beautiful. 
    
    
    
       Ray knew perfect harmony when Fraser was inside him. It wasn't just
    making love. There was a connection made each and every time that brought
    them together on a plane a hundred million miles higher than simple intimacy.
    All human frustrations and society's ills seemed to melt away with Benny's
    movements, his touch. Every deep thrust, every stroke, every whispered
    word of affection and desire had the power to heal him. As he lay in
    Fraser's arms, on the very threshold of sleep, he silently thanked god
    for bringing him this noble creature that he had come to love more than
    life itself. 
    
    
    The alarm went off at six. Ray crawled out of bed slowly, mindful of
    waking Fraser. Normally the other was up by five, but the heat was taking
    its toll on the Canadian. Kowalski showered and changed. Despite the
    early hour, he was feeling pretty damn good. Aside from the little spring
    that mind-blowing sex put in his step, he was anticipating the fact that
    today he, Huey and Dewey were taking down one of the worst drug dealers
    in Chicago. Several exhausting weeks of painstakingly gathering evidence
    had finally paid off. No more loopholes. Today was the day they nailed
    Lee Rankman's ass to the wall. 
       He watched Fraser sleep as he put on his jacket and gathered his car
    keys. The Mountie was beautiful, at peace. Ray perched on the edge of
    bed, running his fingers through Benny's mussed hair. He moaned, eyes
    fluttered open. "Hey, there." Kowalski kissed him, drew back and kissed
    him again. "I gotta go." Fraser raised his head slightly to glance at
    the clock. "I'm sorry, Ray. ", he murmured sleepily, "I didn't even hear
    the alarm go off. I-" Ray silenced his lover with another soft kiss.
    "Relax, Fraser. You're supposed to sleep in on your day off." Benny mumbled
    something and closed his eyes. Kowalski drew on the pleasure of watching
    his lover doze for a few more minutes and then took off. 
    
    
    "We're closing the Rankman file." Welsh was sitting behind his desk,
    scribbling something on paper as he spoke to Kowalski. The detective's
    eyes grew wide and his jaw nearly hit the floor. "What do you mean?"
    "I mean we're closing it. We're shutting down the operation." Ray felt
    the blood rush to his face. "Why?" He stopped writing and looked up.
    "Because I said so. Don't question me on this, Detective." Kowalski leaned
    forward, pressing his palms down on Welsh's desk. "I'm so close. Just
    let me-" 
    "Don't question me on this, Detective." Welsh's voice was low, but it
    held powerful warning and Stanley silenced himself quickly. "Take the
    day off. You look tired." With that the lieutenant went back to his writing.
    The conversation was shot dead.  There was nothing more to be said. Kowalski
    left the office with the flames of anger and injustice burning beneath
    his flesh. 
    
    
      Lee Rankman was a drug dealer and a cold-blooded killer. He flaunted
    this fact openly  and everyone knew it. But no one could do a goddamn
    thing about it. The man knew his way around the system. He knew which
    buttons to push and strings to pull. He had a damn good attorney and
    a lethal reputation. He was untouchable. 
          Kowalski wasn't going to back down, not on this. He'd seen too
    much of the man's handiwork, it was etched in his mind. Rankman knew
    Huey and Dewey; they had questioned him on several occasions. But Rankman
    didn't know Ray. Now, there was an angle to be played.....  
    
    
      This incident had considerably soured Ray's mood and he didn't feel
    like going back home. He didn't want to talk and the last thing he needed
    was Fraser tailing him like a mother cat trying to coax it out of him.
    He drove into the dusty tenements where Rankman operated. The bastard
    made plenty of money, but maintained base camp here. He had once told
    Dewey and Huey this was because the cops didn't give a rat's ass about
    these neighborhoods. The ghetto was no man's land as far as the law was
    concerned. Recalling that the interest in Rankman had been taken only
    after a preppy kid from uptown had overdosed, Ray wondered if the dealer's
    insight was right. He sighed deeply and leaned against his car. "Yo,
    Stanley!" Ray turned to see Levon Jefferson walking toward him. His face
    lit up, bad mood momentaryily forgotten. "Hey, man!", he said, embracing
    his former protege."How the hell have you been?" "I've been good. How
    'bout you? Don't see you around much no more." "Well, work's been a bitch."
    Levon backed away, making a playful attempt at an upper cut. Ray dodged
    it, but got caught lightly in the stomach by an underhanded punch. "You've
    been practicing.", he said proudly. Levon grinned.
    "And you're outta practice, old man." Ray raised an eyebrow.
    "Shit, I could run circles around you any day." The kid was still bouncing.
    "C'mon, man, walk with me, talk with me."
    
    
    
      Kowalski folded his arms over his chest and dragged his feet alittle
    as he and Levon made their way down the littered streets. The teen chattered
    about school, his gang, his girlfriend and his boxing career. Finally,
    having a pause to take in a breath, he grew serious. "So what brings
    you down here, Five-O? Sure as hell can't be no pleasure trip.", he said,
    unable to keep the snide edge out of his remark. Ray stopped walking
    and looked at him. "Why do you have to say that?" Levon sighed.
    "C'mon, man. The only time you cops take an interest-" Kowalski's jaw
    tightened; that comment hurt him more than he would let the kid see.
    "Hey. You cops? C'mon, Levon. This is me, Ray, man. I thought I was your
    boy." Levon glanced down. "You are my boy, homes. But you're still five-o."
    He sighed again. "I'm just saying the only time cops come down here is
    when some rich woman got her purse stolen or some little preppy shit
    got off at the wrong stop and lost his lunch money." Kowalski looked
    down, not willing to defend himself. "What are you doing down here?"
    "You know Lee Rankman?" Levon scoffed.
    "Psycho dealer? Likes to sample more than he sell?"
    "That be him."
    "Yeah. Everyone down here knows him, man. He's dangerous. But he's been
    operating here for awhile, why the sudden interest?" Kowalski's jaw tightened.
    "A kid from Lincoln Park overdosed on his junk." Levon threw up his hands
    in frustration. "See! Man, I knew it." Ray grabbed the teen by his parka.
    "I know what he's done here! You think I don't want to see his head in
    a noose! Rich, poor, it doesn't mean anything! This isn't about that!
    People are dying. We were close, man. So close to bringing him down!",
    he growled, "Somehow he found a loop and this morning  my lieutenant
    tells me I have to back down. But I am NOT backing down, Levon. I'm gonna
    get Rankman, even if I have to do it myself." Levon grabbed his wrists
    and pushed him away. "Bullshit! You think Rankman can't smell a cop at
    a hundred paces?!  Who the hell are you, Robocop? You think he's just
    gonna let you saunter in and slip the handcuffs on?! He'll kill you!"
    "I'm willing to risk that!"
    "Aw, shit, Ray! Don't be pulling off this martyr crap! You never lived
    in the 'hood. You don't know how things work." "Then help me!" That silenced
    the teen for a moment, he stared at Ray in horror. "What?!"
    "All you'd have to do is get me in."
    "Hell, no, man! You'll get us both killed."
    "Fine. I'll figure it out, find my own way. I'm go in undercover." Levon
    scrowled. "Alone?! With no back-up?!"
    "I am on my own either way!"
    "Ray, listen, goddamnit! He will kill you! You may be five-o and a major
    pain in the ass, but you are still my boy and I do want to see you die."
    "Then help me. Please.  Just get me in. That's all you'd have to do.
    Sh-"   A shrill scream cut him off in mid sentence. Suddenly a pale woman
    with sandy blonde hair came running toward them, tears streaming down
    her face. "Levon! Oh, God, please help!" The teen took hold of the hysterical
    woman. "Theresa, calm down, what's wrong?" Her eyes, filled with panic
    darted back and forth between Ray and Levon. "It's J-Jack. I don't know
    what's wrong! He's not-he's all blue and. He was using. I think he got
    into Dad's stash-" The realization hit Ray and he grabbed her arms. "Where
    is he?" 
    "I-In the apartment.", she stuttered. He looked to Levon.
    "Bring her and come." 
    
       Kowalski called for an ambulence as they climbed the stairs, explaining
    that it was a heroin overdose, but wisely did not identify himself as
    a police officer to the dispatcher. "Who's Jack?", he asked, as Levon
    led the way to the apartment.
    "Her little brother. He's eleven." The detective looked horrified. "Eleven?!"
    Levon threw him a weary grimace.
    "Welcome to my world, man." 
    
    
    
    
       Jack was a wiry, pale little thing that resembled a Hallmark Snow
    Baby. He was very small and barely  weighed in Ray's arms as the detective
    picked him up. Theresa had been right. The boy's lips were blue, a thick,
    slimy foam was gathering at corners of his mouth. His pupils were like
    pin points, not constricting at all. 
       Ray carried the boy down the stairs and waited for the ambulence.
    Even as it pulled up the child began to convulse in his arms and the
    small eyes rolled back in his head. Kowalski could only stand and watch
    as the paramedics strapped him in tight to the bed. And then he couldn't
    bear to watch it any longer. 
    
    
     Ray was sitting on the hood of his car, face buried in his hands when
    he heard Levon's voice. "Theresa thinks you're one of my homeboys from
    uptown. I even gave you a fake name. Damon Wolcott.  Her old man's gonna
    want to meet you. He's one of Rankman's oldest customers. Guy's got shit
    for brains. Tell 'im you wanna buy and he'll set it up for you. Just
    watch yourself, Rankman is suspicious of everyone." Kowalski sighed,
    unable to shake the vision of the boy. He felt the kid pat him on the
    back. "Hey. Tell the Mountie I said what's up." "Thanks, Levon." The
    teen shook his head.
    "Don't thank me, man. I want to see the bastard go down, but I think
    what you're doing is real stupid."  As he began to walk away something
    made Ray turn and say, "It's not on you, man." Levon scoffed.
    "Yeah, right."
    
    
          
    
               As predicted, Theresa's father did contact Kowalski. When
    Ray met with him was offered a line to snort(which he turned down) and
    a whiskey, but not a word was spoken about the little boy. The man, who
    was nearly incoherent, muttered about 'these useless politicians' and
    'those damn fool Canadians', but he said not a word about his son. The
    guy had a terrible stink on him, as if he hadn't showered in months and
    Ray found the odor almost overpowering. He had to fight back nausea as
    the subject turned to drugs and he mentioned cautiously that he was a
    buyer and he had recently lost his connection to a police drug bust.
    At once the old man waved his arms around excitedly and offered to hook
    Ray up with his connection. 'A good man.' he exclaimed, "A honorable
    man. You buy from him and you know what you're getting. Not like these
    foreigners who are always trying to rip off  honest, hard-working Americans
    like us." He shook his head. "You come here tomorrow night, around nine
    and I'll set you up. But don't bring no money. Lee don't sell to just
    anyone. He's got to meet you first." 
    
    
    
            Ray came home late at night, with no mention as to where he'd
    been or what he'd done. Fraser had called the precinct twice and was
    nearly ready to go out in search of the detective when Kowalski walked
    through the door. There appeared to be a heavy weight on his shoulders,
    obvious in the way his body sagged and the way he dragged his feet as
    he walked. Stan didn't say a word, only looked at the Mountie for a second
    then stipped off his jacket and settled down in front of the television.
    The silence between them was profound and painful.   Ben had not seen
    Ray so unresponsive the Botrelle case and he knew better than to prob.
    Ray would come to him when he was ready. Until then there was nothing
    more to be done than ride out the storm.   Dinner was eaten in absolute
    quiet so the sound of Dief's breathing alone was deafening. By the time
    they went to bed Fraser was beginning to doubt that Ray was going to
    come around if he wasn't forced out. The only thing that Kowalski did
    initiate was sex. And that was exactly what it was. They didn't make
    love. It was not pleasurable, or even satisfying; it was clincal and
    detached. A few moans, gasps, but no words and their lips never met.
    Ray was cruel, pinning Fraser, biting him hard enough to leave bruises
    and disregarding the Mountie's pained gasps. Then Stan shoved him onto
    his stomach and entered him roughly and Benny pressed his face into the
    bed to stifle a scream. It hurt so terribly that tears gathered in the
    corners of his eyes. The whole time the detective just panted and with
    every cry from Ben he increased the roughness.  When it was finished,
    Ray turned over, facing away from his lover. Fraser did the same, but
    he felt used and miserable. 
    
    
    
        Ben awoke to find the bed empty.  He could hear muffled coughing
    and sat up. The bathroom was wide open and he could see Ray on his knees,
    hunched over the toilet. Scrambling out of bed, the Mountie went  to
    him. The detective's head rested on the edge of the seat; he looked up
    at Fraser, quietly pleading. Stan's face was flushed and his hair was
    matted with sweat. Benny fell on his knees beside his lover and gently
    rubbed his back. "Ray?"  Kowalski dropped his head again and vomitted.
    "Ray." Fraser held his shoulders and braced Ray's lithe, trembling body
    against his own muscled frame. Through uncontrollable crying , he coughed
    and gasped ,almost hyperventillating. Ben ran his fingers through the
    detective's hair, trying to calm him. "Tell me what's wrong.", he whispered.
    Kowalski bit his lip, trying to stifle the sob. He hated to be like this,
    especially in front of Fraser. "Tell me what's wrong, Ray." He sighed
    deeply and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Hid throat was
    sore and burning. Ben sat back against the bathtub, easing Ray into a
    comforting embrace. Kowalski rested his head on Fraser's shoulder, appreciative
    for the warmth of his body. He was so very tired. "He was just a baby."
    "I'm sorry?" Ray wrapped his arm around one of Benton's.
    "The boy. Jack. I can't get him outta my head, Frase." 
    "The boy?" He felt Ray shudder.
    "He was tied down, like an animal. They tied him down like an animal."
    Another shudder and a shaky breath. "He was just a baby. I tried to--wanted
    to help. But I couldn't---couldn't control..." His voice trailed off.
    Benton hugged him tightly, covered his tear-stained face with kisses.
    He hadn't the slightest idea of what Ray spoke of, but right now his
    only concern was calming the detective. "It wasn't your fault." Kowalski
    didn't seem to hear him.
    "His eyes were black, Ben. Like coal." He was distant, unreachable. He
    hardly noticed when Ben hoisted him to his feet and took him back to
    bed. "Like coal.", he mumbled again as Fraser eased him down onto the
    pillows and pulled the bedsheet up to his waist. Ray was still whispering
    to himself as the Mountie slid in next to him. Though he strained to
    understand, not a single word was audible to him. Even after his lover
    had fallen asleep, Benton couldn't find peace enough to do the same.
    
    
    
     "Why didn't you wake me?" Ray was rushing about like chicken with its
    head cut off. He took messy gulps from his coffee as he tried to pull
    on a shirt and eat his breakfast. Benny sat on a barstool, watching Ray
    with much concern. "You didn't sleep well last night. I felt you could
    use the rest." He was now hopping around, trying to put on his shoes
    and reaching for his wallet and car keys. "Ompf!"  Unsuccessfully. 
    "Look, " He stood. "do me a favor?"
    "Anything."
    "Don't ever, ever turn off the alarm and not wake me."
    "I apologize. It's just that last night you were-"
    "Forget last night! That was indigestion. Just don't be pulling off this
    kind of crap again, o.k.?" "Yes, Ray. I'm sorry. I was just concerned."
    This seemed to enrage the detective. "I do not need your concern!", he
    snapped. Gathering his keys he said,"C'mon. I'll drop you off at the
    Consulate." Ben was now unable to mask his hurt. "I'd rather walk, Ray."
    The detective nodded, opening the door.
    "Fine. Whatever." He stormed out, slamming the door behind him with enough
    force to shake a stack of CDs from the shelf. 
    
    
      Kowalski was jittery all day. The fight he'd had with Fraser that morning
    was pushed into the back of his mind. Something about last night was
    eating at him, but he wasn't entirely sure what it was. His business
    with Rankman overshadowed everything else. There was a certain fear for
    his life that was countered by the adrenline rush that was already building
    in him.   Nine came around much faster than he expected. With much begging
    and pleading he managed to  persuade Frannie to lend him one of her brother's
    suits. Mercifully, he and Vecchio were about the same size. Even as Kowalski
    drove to the meeting place, he fidgeted uncomfortably in the suit and
    he wondered how Vecchio managed to dress like this on a daily basis.
    He shook off the self conscious feeling as made his way up the stairs.
    He was met by a man who identified himself as 'an associate of Mr. Rankman.'
    Ray was led into what could only be described as the penthouse of the
    tenament. It was large in size but sparsely furnished. The walls were
    a sickly shade of yellow  and much of the paint was peeling. A tall man
    with curly black hair sat in a rocking chair, watching the visitor with
    cool detachment. "Mr. Wolcott." Ray smiled thinly, his eyes darting for
    a moment to the 'associate' as he left. "Mr. Rankman." The dealer stood
    slowly and approached Kowalski. Carefully, he adjusted the detective's
    jacket. "I understand you saved Jack's life yesterday." Bastard, your
    crap nearly killed him. "Yes."
    "Good work." Son of a bitch.
    "Thank you." 
    "So, I hear you want to do business with me."
    "That would be correct." He nodded, turning away. 
    "Well, tell you what, I'm gonna hook you up with some of my best stuff.
    You like what you feel and we can set up a buy." Like what I feel? What
    the hell was Levon talking about? This guy isn't careful, he's just a
    freak. "I'm sorry?" Rankman tossed him a look.
    "I'm gonna let you sample the product first. I'm a tough businessman,
    Wolcott, but I don't expect you to buy something without taking it out
    for a test drive first." Kowalski's stomach turned. Sample? Test drive?
    Oh, geez. He must have appeared apprehensive, because Rankman was moving
    toward him, the hint of a predatory smile on his thin, chapped lips.
    Ray tried to play it cool. "I just sell, I ain't a client." Rankman was
    circling him like a jackal. "That's cute. Or maybe you're a cop, huh?
    Undercover?" He was pushed roughly onto the couch then. Panic gripped
    Kowalski. How much did Rankman know? If he even suspected.... "Are you
    a narc, pretty boy?" Stanley glared at him, forcing the Fear into the
    back of his mind. "Do I look like a narc?" Rankman traced  Ray's jawline,
    stroked the cheekbone, "Yeah." He ran his fingers over Kowalski's lips.
    
    "You're gonna get high with me, before you go." The detective shook his
    head. "You're some kinda freak. No way!" Suddenly the big hand was around
    his throat, cutting off oxygen. "Listen to me. You'll get high, or you'll
    get dead. Can your little uptown mentality grasp that?" Ray managed to
    croak out a 'yes' and he was released.   His heart pounded miserably
    as Rankman prepared the heroin. It wasn't alittle bit of pot, or maybe
    a hit of acid. This was heroin, one of the most addictive narcotics...'Just
    one time,' Ray thought, 'just one.' Rackman pinned him against the couch.
    
    "Don't trust no one who won't at least sample." Kowalski bit his lip
    to subdue his trembling as the dealer pushed his sleeve up close to the
    shoulder.  He closed his eyes, unable to look as Rackman probed his arm
    for a vein. And then the familiar 'tap, tap' of a finger gently flicking
    the syringe. His arm was gripped hard and Kowalski sucked in a breath
    as the needle stabbed into his flesh. He shuddered violently as Rackman
    released him. "Best stuff. Best stuff you'll ever get." the fellow mumbled.
    The detective massaged his arm, only now noticing the large bruise that
    was already appearing on the pale flesh and a small pinpoint of blood
    where the needle had entered. At once his head began to swim and he fell
    from the couch onto the floor. It seemed his lungs refused to work. 
    Falling. He was loosing all sense of direction, up or down. Rackman's
    hands were on him, shoving him into a sitting position. "Can't handle
    your shit, eh?" Another wave of panic passed over Ray.  Did Rackman know?
    But then then the dealer continued. "That's the problem with you uptown
    guys, thinking you can market a product you ain't never even tried yourself."
    But the detective wasn't listening. The drug was already beginning to
    drop anchors in his brain.  Oh, what a rush. He sighed deeply. Suddenly,
    everything felt so good. Real good. Rankman was seated across from in
    a rocking chair, watching him. Watching him. Ray flashed him a broad,
    lop-sided, Chesire Cat grin. Maybe Rankman wasn't such a bad guy after
    all. Kowalski giggled, rubbing his eyebrow. What the hell was he here
    to do again? Um...Oh....No, wait. That wasn't it....Jeez, he just couldn't
    remember. Gosh, and normally he had a really good--Wait, was he thinking
    about?  Oh, right, hockey. No, that can't be right. Bending? No. Twisting?
    No. Ah! Curling. Right, curling. Brooms. Brooms are funny. They've got
    bristles and stuff. Whoosh! Maybe it's just outta season or something.
    'Maybe you just need to get laid.'  Stan burst out laughing. 'You're
    a funny guy, Ray. You just crack me up.' 
    
    
    Somewhere in the last hour, Stanley had stopped laughing. He was stretched
    out on the worn parlour rug, his cheek pressed into the scratchy fabric.
    Each breath was sucked in with concentrated effort. Tears rolled over
    his face, moistened his dry lips. Stan couldn't string a full thought
    together. A crushing guilt had overtaken him. Last night. Sex. He'd hurt
    Fraser. Badly. Oh, shit. Like a zombie, he ungracefully pulled himself
    into a sitting position; motor functions required so much effort. Pain.
    God, his ear ached, like someone was sticking a icepick in there and
    twisting it around. Ow! Make it stop!  Ray's head fell back, his eyes
    fixing on the ceiling, looking past it. Every sound was suddenly amplified
    by hundreds and thousands. The television in the next room, the flies
    on the landing outside, unsteady pounding of his heart, the rush of blood
    in his veins.  He fell back onto his side again. No. No. No.  Nausea,
    sickness. Kowalski curled up in a fetal position, hugging his sides.
    Oh, God. Oh, God, Oh, God. It hurts. It hurts. Rankman squatted down
    beside him, running his fingers through the detective's short blond hair.
    "It hurts.", he whimpered.
    "Yeah.. Kinda like being a virgin. Always hurts the first time." The
    dealer's voice was cheerful and it drilled through Ray's mind. The guy
    was taking pleasure in this, in watching him suffer. "Fraser.", he whispered,
    "Fraser."
    
    
    
     For whatever the reason, Rankman agreed to set up a buy in a few days.
    The fact that Kowalski had done the drug had convinced him that he wasn't
    a cop.  By the time Ray got out to his car, he had already begun to wish
    he was dead. The pain in his belly was unbearable. There seemed to be
    a 50 ton weight on his chest. His arm was bruised and aching where he
    had shot up. It was nearly 11:30 in the morning. He was supposed to be
    at work at eight. Oh, shit and he hadn't even called Fraser. Didn't go
    home last night, his Mountie would be upset. 
       He was gonna call. He was, but he began nodding off in the middle
    of traffic. Realizing his exhaustion, he pulled the car into the parking
    lot of the grocery store. So tired. He crept into the back seat, curled
    up and slept. 
    
    
     It was 3:45 when he awoke. He felt somewhat better, if not extremely
    hungry. He got back into the driver's seat and called the Consulate.
    "Canadian Consulate, Constable Fraser speaking." Kowalski knew that tone,
    distant and distracted. "Ben?" 
    "Ray?!" He sounded relieved. "How are you?"
    "I'm fine, Frase. It's just, I've had a long night."
    "I was worried."
    "I know. I'm sorry. I should have called."
    "Yes, you should have. You need to call the precinct. Lieutenant Welsh
    has been calling here every  half hour looking for you." "Yeah. I'll
    call him." He sighed, biting his lip as he felt another bout of drilling
    in his head, "I'll see you tonight, o.k?" "Fine. Are you sure you're
    o.k.?"
    "Yes."
    After he hung up with Fraser the nausea took a strangle hold on his stomach
    and he wasn't able to contain it any more. He pulled the car into a fire
    lane, opened the door and emptied most of  his stomach contents(what
    little there was left) into the street. He sighed, cradling his head
    between his knees. His eyes watered and he suddenly wished his mother
    was there to cuddle and comfort him as she had done when he was a child.
    Inhaling, he got back into the car and dialed the precinct. As soon as
    it picked up he said, "Frannie?" A gasp on the other end.
    "Oh, God! Ray are you o.k.? We've been worried sick about you. Welsh
    is gonna have kittens!" Kittens? "Where the hell have you been?" "I was
    trying to take down Lee Rankman."
    "Rankman! Are you insane? Look, I'm going to put you on with Welsh, he's-"
    "No!" That was not the person he needed to talk to right now."Just tell
    him I'm on my way and that I'll talk to him when I get in." 
    
    
    "Detective, get your ass in here! Now!" Kowalski took a deep breath.
    His chest constricted and his lungs seemed to have shrunk in size. Frannie
    and Huey offered him quick glances of sympathy.  He cursed under his
    breath and shuffled slowly into Welsh's office.  He'd seen the lieutenant
    pissed before, and on more than one occasion he'd been the cause of it.
    But this was definitely over the top, even for Welsh. The older man was
    in his face, bellowing about IA and Ray's lack of responsibilty. "I should
    have your shield for this! What the hell did you think you were doing?!"
    Kowalski swallowed, finally able to meet his superior's eyes. He could
    feel the other man's hot breath on his face. "Well, Detective?!" He sighed,
    that terrible nausea coming over him again. "Private investigation.",
    he rasped, mumbled, trying to combat the dizziness. "What?! Speak up!"
    Kowalski swallowed again.
    "It was a private investigation.", he said more loudly, though his voice
    was still near a whisper. "A private investigation?" Welsh's voice was
    softer now, but not by much. "Even after I told you leave it alone?"
    "Yes, sir." The lieutenant nodded.
    "Yes." He shook his head, almost sadly and turned away from Stanley.
    And Ray couldn't bear the disappointment on his face. "I couldn't let
    Rankman get away with it. I couldn't. He's pure evil and dangerous and-"
    "Yes. Very dangerous." Welsh massaged his temple. For a time there was
    an uncomfortable silence. Kowalski like felt a disobedient teenager who
    had disgraced his father.  "I want the whole story, Detective. Right
    now." Welsh settled in behind his desk and Ray lowered his eyes. Slowly,
    the story unfolded. The boy, his full involvment with Rackman, the attempt
    to bring the man to justice and the night's drug incident. Welsh sat
    and listened to all this carefully, taking note of Ray's sweating, his
    edginess, his wide, blood-shot eyes and trembling form. "Detective, how
    much heroin were you injected with?" Kowalski rubbed his forehead nervously.
    God, he didn't want to think. He was just so tired. "I-I don't know.
    I-I didn't look." The liuetenant concealed his worry in a strong, calm
    voice. He did  not want to panic Kowalski any further by making a fuss.
    "I think you should sit down, Ray.", he said. Kowalski shook his head.
    "N-No. No. I'd really like to go home and maybe, um, maybe-" He staggered,
    groping at anything and nothing for support. Welsh rose, but did not
    make it around the desk fast enough to catch the detective as he crumbled.
    
    
         
    Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Ray opened his eyes. He felt groggy and his head
    ached something terrible. Beep. Beep. Oh, the monitor. He hated that
    sound. Beep. Beep. Beep. He groaned, shifting slightly. "Detective?"
    He heard the heavy steps and looked over to see Welsh walking toward
    the bed. "How are you feeling?" He sighed.
    "Good. Real good.", he replied with exaggerated cheerfulness. The lieutenant
    pulled a chair close to the bed. "Cut the sarcasm, detective." Ray growled,
    but had the good sense to hold his tongue. "You've gotten yourself  in
    deep this time, Kowalski. IA is going to have a field day with this."
    Ray glared at him in disbelief. "Screw IA! Rackman is responsible for
    more deaths than we have record of.  He buys the cooperation of his neighbors
    through violence and if they don't play ball, he kills them or he kills
    their families. He sells drugs to children. " He glared at Welsh through
    burning eyes."Have you ever seen an eleven year old kid overdose? Convulsions,
    swallowing the tongue, eyes rolling back in his head, foaming at the
    mouth. It ain't pretty. " The lieutenant lowered his head, sighing even
    as Ray continued to rant. "You ever seen a crack baby? They're so little.
    Like mice. Skinny little arms. They look like they're still fetuses,
    like they weren't ready to be born yet." Welsh reached out to place his
    hand over Kowalski's. "Detective, I've been walking the streets of this
    city since you were a toddler. I've seen children die of overdoses in
    front of me. I've seen babies shot to death by doped-up parents. It doesn't
    get any easier. I know it tears you apart, but you are still an officer
    of the law. You took an oath and you can't just toss the rules out the
    window when they get in the way." Ray shook his head. "Right, the rules.
    I forgot, these guys have rights, protection. Can't go stepping on those.
    That would be unconstitusional." The lieutenant raised his finger to
    remind Kowalski about the sarcasm. "The rules are also there to protect
    hot-headed, loose cannons like yourself.  Detective, you collasped in
    my office. I was sure you were dying and I don't remember being that
    scared in a long time." Kowalski looked at him, surprised by this confession.
    "When my detectives hurt, I hurt too."
    "Thanks, Lieu." Ray's voice was almost a whisper.
    "Yeah. Yeah." Welsh gave him a light slap on the cheek, "Tell anyone
    else I said that and I'll cut out your tongue out myself." Kowalski smiled.
    "So, what now?" Welsh sighed.
    "Based on what you gave us, Narcotics was able to pick up Rankman. But
    he knows about you now." "Ooh. I'm trembling."
    "Don't underestimate this guy. You need to watch your back." He stood
    up. "Alright. Now the doctor says you can go home, but you'll need plenty
    of rest. I'll have Huey give you a ride. In the meantime, I'm posting
    a guard outside." He held up a hand to stop the immediate protest from
    the detective. "I don't want to hear it. Also, Frannie has gone to the
    Consulate to get Fraser." Kowalski groaned. Why did they have to tell
    the Mountie? No point in making him worry needlessly. "You didn't have
    to disturb him.", he said quietly. Welsh was adjusting his coat. "He
    called for you and we couldn't very well lie. Anyhow, seeing as how you
    two are close, I figured it would be good for you." Ray grinned slyly.
    Close. Hmm, Welsh had no idea. The lieutenant caught the little smile
    and raised an eyebrow to Stanley. "Something you find humorous, Detective?"
    Kowalski's smile grew.
    "No, sir."
     "Ray!" A blur of pink and black rushed at him and suddenly Ray was wrapped
    in Frannie's arms, his face buried  in her hair. "Oh, thank God, thank
    God.", she murmured, "I was so worried." He rubbed her back gently. "I'm
    fine, Frannie. No reason to worry." She pulled away from him and gave
    him a light, mock punch in the shoulder. "Don't you ever scare me like
    that again, Bro." Suddenly he felt ashamed for what he had done and guilty.
    So often he acted without thinking of the consquences to people who cared
    about him. She eased back from him, still holding his hands. "You're
    so pale. Ma would have a fit if she saw you." Kowalski shook his head.
    He looked up and saw Fraser standing in the doorway.  Welsh put his hand
    on Frannie's shoulder. "C'mon, let's get some coffee." He looked at the
    Mountie as he left. "Knock some sense into him, would you?" Ben nodded.
    "Yes, sir." He closed the door behind them and turned to his lover. 
    
    
    
       Kowalski couldn't conceal the smile that played across his lips as
    Fraser approached with that patented annoyed, but worried expression
    he threw at Ray so often. "Ray-" Kowalski laughed. Poor Benny, the things
    he had to put up with. "Ray, this is not at all humorous. What has gotten
    into you? You could have been killed last night." Stanley sighed. "But
    I wasn't." He could sense an Inuit story coming on. "Aw, save the lecture,
    Frase. I already got two from Welsh." Ben sat down in the chair and ran
    his hand over Ray's arm. "Not undeservingly." He touched the tattoo on
    Ray's shoulder. "Why do you do these things?" Kowalski rolled his eyes.
    Here it comes. "Do what, Frase?"
    "Deliberately put yourself in harm's way." 
    "It's what I do. It's my job. Rankman's a dirty bastard. I couldn't stand
    around and let him keep killing people. I did what I had to do. Why is
    that such a big deal?" Ben touched his fingers lightly to Stan's eyes.
    "You're my whole life, Ray. I can't loose you.", he said. The detective
    winced. That did it. No matter how he justified his recklessness to himself,
    Fraser always seemed to find the flaw and exploit it. He sighed, shaking
    his head. "I'm sorry, Ben. I just can't deal with the thought of scum
    like Rankman walking around nearly untouchable." He glanced down shamefully
    at the folded corner of his sheet. "I want to apologize for yesterday.
    I had a bad day. And then I came home and I was total dick to you." Ben's
    expression was soft. "No. I understand."  Ray sucked in a breath, studying
    the Mountie carefully. "I, uh, I hurt you pretty bad last night, didn't
    I?" Fraser didn't reply at once,  but dropped his eyes. "You were upset,
    Ray.", he replied as a length," I don't blame you-" "Goddamnit! I hurt
    you! Stop trying to make me feel better, Frase." "I'm not trying to-"
    "Stop it! I hurt you! Just tell me I hurt you! I want to hear it say
    it!" He sighed. "Yes. You hurt me." Ray bowed his head.
    "I know it doesn't mean much, but I'm sorry." Fraser took his hand and
    twined their fingers together. "You have nothing to be sorry for."
    "Don't say that. I was frustrated and angry and I took it out on you.
    Forgive me?" Ben was about to object again and say that nothing the man
    had done required forgiving, but the pain and guilt in his lover's eyes
    silenced that thought. "I forgive you, Ray.", he replied simply. Kowalski
    smiled, visibly relieved by this. "Thanks, Frase. I needed that." Fraser
    nodded sympathically and teased the detective's dishelved hair. Ray sighed.
    This action gave him an excuse to change the subject. "I guess I look
    kinda crappy, huh?"
    Benny stroked his chin, tickled by the light stubble.
    "You'll always be beautiful to me, Ray." 
    "Aw.." Fraser was amused to see his lover blush shyly. He moved forward
    and captured Kowalski's lips with his own. Ray moaned softly into his
    mouth. Slowly, Benton pulled away and looked into the detective's green
    eyes. It was the kind that gaze that Ray could feel, as if Benny were
    searching his soul. "I love you.", he whispered. Kowalski touched his
    face lightly.
    "I love you too, Frase." 
    
    
    
    
         The Rankman case would go to trial thanks to a judge who was seeking
    re-election. Stella Kowalski would be prosecuting and this was an incredible
    comfort to Ray. Her courtroom tactics were brilliant and ruthless, bordering
    sadistic. She was an expert at discrediting just about any witness that
    the defense brought in and, if she was in a particular irritable mood,
    she could make them cry. Her agreement to take on Rankman was more or
    less personal. Though she would deny it until her dying breath, the she
    wanted revenge for what he had done to Ray. 
    
    
      The easy part was over; the hardest was yet to come. Now all the 27th
    could was pray that the jury would make the right decision. 
    
    (continued in part 2: 180 Degrees)
    


End file.
